[Sean's not unwilling to go fishing for the kit, but Connor's right, they can't fix it now. They have to wait. He gets the napkins against the wound, doing his best to stanch the blood without pressing down too hard. Jesus. Jesus Christ. What if they're being followed still? God, Jesus, if they were smart enough to put guys in his building, then they might be smart enough to have cars on the road.
Being paranoid feels terrible, but there's nothing Sean can do about it except hold those napkins in place, and soak up the blood coming out of him.]
Jesus. Jesus. I had such a bad feeling walking in there. I knew something was wrong. The Lord might as well have sent an angel down to tell me there was death waiting, and I just- if you hadn't seen it...
[Sean would be dead. Absolutely dead. All because he didn't want to leave his fucking books behind or his clothes or the other stupid little things he thought were important. None of it was worth dying over...]
[Connor huffs when pressure is put on the wound, grimacing but keeping most of his reaction strictly internalized. He wants to do this, to carry out his promise and get Sean to safety, no matter what ended up happening to him.
When they finally get to the open land outside the city, Connor pulls over off the interstate and reclines his seat, breathing heavily. It's not shock, but it's getting there, and he has to push himself to focus on the here and now. It helps, when he catches Sean around the back of the neck and has the chance to look him in the eye.]
Sean. Doll. You know I like listening to you, but you really need to stop and focus, here. There's gauze, alcohol and painkillers in the kit.
[As soon as the car comes to a stop, Sean's trying to see if he can reach into the backseat without getting out of the car to get that kit. That's when Connor catches him by the back of his neck, and makes him look Connor square on. Jesus, he's gone pale. It's like all the colour's draining out of him. Which. It kind of is. He's been shot, which means all the blood's going into the body - and then out of it. He sets his free hand on Connor's side, and gives him a pat.]
No, no, don't worry. I. Ha, I know this shit like the back of my hand. Hold onto this.
[He makes Connor hold onto the napkins and Sean gets out of the passenger side, going into the back to fish the first ait kit out and come back around with it. He settles back in, unzipping it, and getting the alcohol. He sets it on the dashboard with the rest of the kit, and starts unbuttoning Connor's shirt, carefully peeling it and the napkins back to look at the wound.]
You don't know the awful shock I got the first time I walked into a hospital here and found out they charge you for everything. I knew Americans paid more, but I had no idea how much you paid for everything. Jesus. Scared the shit out of me. So I had to get good at doing this. Like, don't get me wrong, I'm no doctor but... hey, I'm not going to charge you an arm and a leg for it, so it washes out right?
[And as he chats to distract Connor, Sean uses the alcohol to clear the wound. He carefully checks to see if the slug's still in one piece, or it's shattered. One piece. Thank god. Though that also makes it tricky, because they'll need to fish that out. But not here. That's asking for an infection to do that without clean tools and hot water and all the rest. So he'll patch it for now, and they'll pull that out later when they get where they're going. Sean cleans the worst of it, and wipes it down, and then gets the disinfectant over the wound, and finally adds plenty of gauze in a square over the wound before taping it down.
Not his best work, but it'll do for now. He checks the bottle for doses, and taps out two pills.]
We'll pull the slug out and stitch when I've got a sink, so we'll need to hit a drugstore when we're there, or before we're there if they don't have those out at Belle Isle. You can have these two now, and two more in four hours.
[Sean holds out the pills for Connor and glances around to see if somewhere among the fast food litter and other rubbish if there's an old soda or bottle of water or something. Doesn't look like it.]
Yeah, the healthcare system in the states is absolute horseshit. Tends to be why I get people requesting rides to the hospital in my car instead of the ambulance, or just to take them straight home. My health insurance doesn't cover dick-all unless it's...stuff like this, actually. On the job shit that workman's comp will cover if the benefits don't.
[He hisses quietly at the fabric peeling away from the wound, jaw clenched as Sean cleans it up. The alcohol stings like a sonofabitch but he'll deal. It's just a temporary fix. All of this is temporary.
He grouses distractedly about his shirt being ruined as Sean pops open the pill bottle, holding his hand out for the tablets then just tossing them into his mouth and bracing before crunching down on them and swallowing hard. It's absolutely disgusting, but he'd live, it'd kick in faster, and it'd be a story to tell later. He pulls his shirt back on straight and takes a few long breaths before popping the car back out of neutral and pulling onto the interstate once more.]
There's a full, privatized medical facility where I used to live. I'll cash in a favor after we get you to your place.
[Sean packs the rest of the aid back in the kit and tucks it under his seat this time, in case they need it again quickly. He also nods when Connor says he can get into a real doctor.]
That's good. I can do okay work but... like I said, I'm not a doctor. I just date a lot of assholes who don't have health care, or can't risk going to the hospital. You're- you were kind of the exception.
[He slumps back in his seat. Jesus Christ. Sean's done a lot of stupid fucking things for men, and he's paid the price for it before, but usually that's getting roughed up, or a bruised heart, or having to quickly move in the dead of night to shake an ex who wasn't letting things go. The cost of chasing dick has never been so high as it is right now.]
[Hearing their relationship referred to in the past tense already sucks so much. But then again it probably wasn't much of a relationship to begin with, just a dalliance between actual boyfriends because of Connor being low-maintenance and Sean enjoying his company.
But maybe it's better this way. One less thing to make him worry while he's on the job. One less reason to care.]
It's about an hour now. You'll see the tower first.
[An hour. That's... not bad. It's like a longer bus ride across the city. Just in a nicer vehicle. And with more awkward company.
This feels just like the time he walked into Five Guys and three of his goddamn ex's were in there at the same time. Jesus. He's just got the worst fucking luck.
Connor isn't chatting much and Sean usually loves to fill the gaps in silence, but what's he even got to say? Hey so what are your plans, after ruining my life? You working on any cases other than the one that's got you shot and has a hit out on my head? Seeing anybody new? Obviously not, your job is your life, plus it's not Sean's business anymore, if it ever was.
[After a few minutes' driving in silence, Connor ends up turning on his stereo and running the shuffle of all of his music, hopping it back and forth between a little bit of everything, from old punk to jazz to metal, eclectic and a little senseless. His fingers tap restlessly on the steering wheel, only stopping when Sean speaks up again. It makes something in his chest ease up just a little bit.]
My partner, detective Reed. He's got him for now.
[Another one that he's told Sean about; a chauvinist, a bit of a cock, but his oldest friend from the time he'd first run away from home as a teenager. There's a thought to offer to bring Musubi to see Sean, but he doubts the man would accept it, no matter how he likes the dog. Too awkward, after all. It's just not a good time.]
[Oh, good. He's glad Musubi won't be left alone. Part of him almost wishes he were coming with them. He could pet Musubi without feeling awkward and complicated about it. ... but if a dog got killed while the mob's trying to get him, Sean wouldn't be able to handle it. Jesus. It's too grim to think about. And they would, in a heartbeat, no matter how sweet the dog would be...]
Okay, that's good. Hopefully he'll be eating well, and getting good walks.
Gavin loves him, he'll be absolutely spoiled by the time I get back.
[Connor tended to keep his address a secret when it came to working with the shady types, just so nobody could find out that he didn't have other attachments besides his coworkers and his dog and try to use that against him. He'd been threatened with it a few times since he'd started on the force, and like hell would he ever give it the chance to happen. It was why he tended to trust people a lot more when he found out they liked dogs too. Besides, if someone really loved a dog, they'd be fine going around them, because dogs are good at telling bad people from good more often than not.]
If you ever got the chance, would you get a dog of your own? Seems like a watch dog wouldn't go amiss.
[That's good. He's a nice dog. He deserves to be spoiled, at least sometimes.
But then he asks if Sean would get a dog of his own, and he just... he sighs a little. Sean's wanted a pet for a long time. Any pet, honestly. A cat, or a dog, just something he could pet and take care of. He's thought about sneaking in a stray now and then. It's not like he could ruin the places he lived in anymore than they were.
It's just... it's not fair to them. Because some weeks, Sean was stuck debating between what he could deal with: two weeks without his cell phone, or dumpster diving for food until his next paycheck. Doing that to himself was one thing. Doing it to a dog or a cat that depending on him to feed them? That's not fair.]
If things were better, maybe... I like dogs. I like animals.
[Oh... nobody's going to feed the stray cat anymore. He instantly feels guilty. Hopefully she'd be okay. She seemed tough but... winter was always nasty in Detroit. He sinks down a little more in his seat.]
[Over and over, Sean keeps confirming what Connor already knows about him, that he's a good guy, no matter what he's been stuck doing. Wanting to be in a better position to care for something else before actually trying to do so falls right in line with that.]
I have no doubt that you'd be good to any animal you took in. But you're right, you need to be able to actually care for them in the first place.
[He smiles faintly, feeling a little less rooted in the awfulness of the moment now that the painkillers have started to take effect and take the edge off the ache in his shoulder. He looks up ahead after they pass one of the unmarked county roads leading out toward the more rural properties, spotting far off the massive structure that looks a little unfocused from here due to its lattice-like construction. Something that's been in news reports as a backdrop when it came to some of the new, secretive biomedical and technical developments underway since its construction. If Sean recognizes it, he'd probably be able to put together a little more detail from what little he actually knows about Connor himself, from the lack of parentage to the lack of actual schooling. This was where he'd come from. It was where he was born.]
Everything will be alright, Sean. I bet I can find your stray cat and make sure she's warm before the snow hits.
[It's a nice thought. He's just not sure it's worth believing in. Still...]
Maybe. She can take care of herself though. She's a tough old girl.
[Sean's not the kind of guy who keeps up with politics or news. So much of it's bad, and so much of it makes him feel sick or small, and it's easier just to keep his eyes averted and his head down. He buries himself in fiction because it's a safe release from the terror of the world around him. But there's a funny thing about fiction, and that's that a lot of it pulls from the news. So even if he's avoiding learning some things, in the end, he ends up with a basic knowledge anyway, just filtered through fiction.
Which means when he looks around and sees the landscape around him, and the massive structure in the distance, he says-]
That looks like the cover of a book I read once.
[He doesn't mean to lapse back into conversation. But he can't help it. Sean's never been good at staying quiet for long, especially not when he's in the same car as someone. Even when he's still feeling hurt, he can't help but want to talk to someone. Anyone. Especially someone he likes- liked. Likes. Oh whatever.]
I always thought that it would be what AM looked like, if Harlan Ellison had been born in the twenty-first century, instead of the big black slab he's written as.
[Connor doesn't read much that he ever talks about. Sean is the connoisseur, after all. But he can't help drawing the comparison.]
When I was a kid, I couldn't shake the feeling that the entire world might have just been made up. Like all this was all there was. Just...the thousand people that lived in there with me, and all this empty nothing. Amanda thought it was a stupid idea, but...I don't know. I think maybe I was scared I was right.
[Sean had read a lot of things, horrible and otherwise, but nothing had gotten him the way 'I Have No Mouth' did, which frankly had scared the shit out of Sean the first time he read it. It was horrible, the idea of being tortured over and over again until you had your entire sense of self stripped from you. Benny had given him nightmare especially, just the idea of having every single pillar of yourself turned against you, until the 'you' that you were was gone, forever.
The second bit is a little confusing at first, until he realizes what Connor's saying, and then Sean nods, because yeah, he gets that a little. Not the same as Connor, but... small towns are all the same.]
That sounds terrifying to feel that way as a kid... The world always seemed more like a story to me when I was a kid. But, I guess I always figured I'd eventually head out there, like the heroes always did the fairy tales. Second-last son, out on the road with a ball of yarn, or a bag of seeds, or some other half-magic thing to lead the way.
[He wants to ask who Amanda was. Was that one of his guardians? Or someone else in the town? Connor doesn't have many good things to say about his history - or much at all, really. The thing Sean knows most is that this place is pretty, and quiet, and lonely.]
She died a few years ago, after Elijah took full share in the company they'd built out here. I attended the service, but you can't exactly mourn someone whose only real relationship to you's the expectations they have.
[As they get closer to the tower, it becomes clear that this isn't so much a town as it is a complex, and a sterile one at that, all spread out from the base of the main structure. There don't seem to be any signs of life, just the dull back and forth of automated trucks with no operators. It all blends in with the scenery from further away, save for the tower proper.
A massive, smooth gate lies in front of the entry road, flanked by men in dark uniforms. He rolls down his window and looks out at the one on his side, and his tone grows chilly, clinical, almost robotic.]
ID number 313 248 317, Connor Stern. I'm escorting a witness under protective custody, and requesting medical attention code 1310, nonfatal.
[Definitely not standard police, and definitely another layer of weird to deepen the alarm surrounding Connor's everything.
When they're allowed past, the gate in front of them sinks into the road itself. He rolls his window up and breathes a sigh of relief. They'd be able to put Sean up without incident.]
Well it's weird. Very weird. Connor said he'd grown up in a remote place. He didn't mention it was a compound. Granted, if Sean had grown up in a compound, would he tell anyone? Jesus. Never. He'd do pretty much anything not to mention it.
But hey, for the first time, Sean finds himself actually wondering if he really will be safe here, instead of certain he'll die. It's one thing for the mob to follow him to a small town. It's another to get into a compound with a gate, and ID numbers, and codes and... everything. Even the way Connor speaks gets weird and strange, and a little scary really.
Sean just sits in his seat with his hands in his lap, watching Connor as he relaxes, and becomes more like himself again...]
Uh. Yeah. Yeah... It's uh... like Fort Knox in here, huh?
[Connor hadn't been sworn to secrecy when he'd left this place, but he wouldn't talk about it unless he absolutely had to. Who would believe him? More than that, it just doesn't seem important in his day to day. It's easy to be vague about in smalltalk as long as he kept names out of it.
Connor pulls around to a smaller multilevel building, the same chilly exterior as everywhere else in the complex revealing nothing about it but a panel at the ground entrance of the parking structure labeling this a "habitation center". From here it doesn't take long for Connor to get his car parked in a rather empty low level lot, and take Sean to the elevator that's very clean and a cozy sort of warmth that carries further inside.
At the hall the doors upen up to, it looks more habitable, tiled in a warm cream color with smooth white walls, and several doors along the corridor, all with panels identical to the one that Connor stops in front of. He lays his fingertips against it and the door audibly unlocks. Then he gestures Sean forward.]
Here, put your hand on it, and then you'll be the only one that can get in here unless you specify anyone else.
[Cyberlife? The name's kinda familiar, the way a lot of company names can be. Like, maybe he heard somebody talk about them once? But... Sean's not really sure what they do. Or make. Computers maybe? Cyber's online stuff so... maybe it's one of those big online games? Like- what was the one Roy was into, with all the animal people in it? It was a Life too wasn't it?
It feels like a hospital building. But not a regular one. A specialty hospital, where you go when you've got something the regular doctors can't fix. It gives him the creeps. Jesus... and Connor grew up here? In this place?
... no wonder he thought arresting Sean would work out well if this was the kind of environment he was used to. He probably couldn't understand why it'd been so hurtful to Sean to have his trust in Connor abused like that, and turned against him. Even in the places where it gets less hospital-y, it's still got a kind of... like. Sean's not sure of the words exactly, but it all feels too perfect, in the wrongest way. Like everything is the same, and every inch the same, and if anything weren't, then it would have to go...
He steps forward when Connor tells him to, looking at the panel.]
Uh, sure.
[He puts his hand flat on it, so it can get all his fingerprints and palm lines and whatever else it uses. It's got a weird, warm and staticy feeling to it. The promise of nobody getting in except him, or who he wants, is nice but... who'd he even want in here besides him anyway? He doesn't know anyone here. And just by looking around, Sean's not sure they'd want to get to know him either.
Sean steps inside the room and looks around.]
Did you grow up in uh... this place? The... habitation center? Or somewhere else?
[There hadn't been much in the way of houses as far as Sean had seen when they came in, but maybe they were around, just in the back somewhere.]
[Connor rubs his hands together as he steps inside behind Sean, finally putting down the bag holding Sean's projects.
The apartment looks like a magazine spread, clean and modern, with pristine decorations and comfortable seating, a fully stocked kitchen positively glittering. It's a studio space, and the bed is partitioned off on an upper level up a small set of stairs, while underneath a large desk sits with a computer and ample writing space. A huge picture window rests along the far wall, tinted subtly to cut the glare of sunlight coming in. A bathroom sits open on the adjacent wall, just as clean as the rest with chrome fixtures and smooth marble surfaces.
Connor moves further into the apartment, glancing around, then back to Sean.]
In the main structure.
Sean, I know this is all really, really weird for you. It's only temporary but I get that these things leave a lasting impression. I will tell you anything you want to know, after I've been treated. Whatever will make this easier to bear until it's safe for you to return home.
[The place is probably the nicest place Sean's ever been in where he wasn't someone else's guest. Though, thinking about it, he still is someone else's guest here. It looks like something out of a movie, y'know, where the young hip rich people lounge around while fucking their way into and out of every problem they have. Like a showroom selling him on putting down a deposit to live here for like, a million dollars a year.
It's a little overwhelming. He drops his bags by the door near where Connor put his others, and he just does the slow turn as he looks in it. Connor's still talking though, so he forces himself to pay attention.]
Uh. Okay.
[And as he turns, his eyes light on Sean's makeshift wound treatment. He quickly makes a face. Jesus right, how could he have let himself forget? Connor sure couldn't, not when he had a bullet in him.]
Yeah no, uh, go get that taken care of before it gets any worse. I'll... be here.
[Not like he has anywhere else he can go. Especially not when he's got this ankle bracelet on, and he knows that they sure aren't easy to cut off, or tamper with.]
[Connor's pokerface is impeccable when it matters most. If Sean forgot he was injured, it was more a matter of Connor's doing than of Sean's lack of mindfulness.
It's good that Sean seems to like the place; he'd have tried to get him switched to one of the other apartments if he didn't care for this one. Connor's biggest concern in the here and now is Sean's well-being, both physical and mental. Nothing could hurt him here. He wouldn't have to worry about anything. It would be a jarring experience, after everything else he's been through, Connor knows that much.]
Make yourself at home. Eat something. And...here.
[He kneels as he talks, reaching for the tracker anklet Sean had been made to wear when the court order had been handed down. Within moments of fiddling, he has it off, and he hands it over.]
It's still functional, but you can just leave it here. We're not holding you prisoner.
[It's weird to think of that. Make himself at home. He's not sure this place could be anymore unlike him. But... well. He doesn't have an apartment to go back to anymore. So guess this is his home now...
But his moping is promptly interrupted as Connor kneels down and easily takes the anklet off.]
Are you sure, I... won't you get in trouble for taking it off?
I wouldn't take it off if it had any chance of getting you in trouble.
[He points it out like a matter of fact, putting the anklet in one of the drawers of the kitchen island where Sean would know where it is.
A chime at the door alerts them to the arrival of another person, dressed in sterile white scrubs when Connor answers the door. There's brief conversation, then Connor turns back around and flashes Sean a strained little smile.]
There's unlimited hot water when you wanna take a shower. I'm gonna go get patched up.
[He doesn't wait for Sean to respond. The sooner he's on his way, the sooner he can get patched up, and the sooner Sean won't have to worry about it anymore. Or about seeing him. He'll be left alone after that to get his bearings, to eat or rest or take a shower, and discover the other interesting thing about the apartment: that everything can be voice-activated if he finds the command list posted on one of the counters.
The next time he hears from Connor, it'll be a simple message:]
Bullet's out, painkillers kicked in. Wasn't as bad as it looked. I'm going home tomorrow. Is there anything I can bring you?
[But he's gone before Sean can say anything. And then he's left alone. In this big, empty apartment. With every possession packed in a suitcase.
Well. Alright.
Sean takes Connor's advice on the shower, because a police holding cell isn't exactly a comfortable place to do anything, and showering isn't really an option for short-term holds. He gets out of the jail's clothes and promptly climbs in, turning it up hot. Oh jesus that's nice. His shower at home-
His shower at the apartment never stayed hot for long, if ever. Sean sticks himself under the water and scrubs off sweat and stink from the past few days, before he just leans against the wall and lets it beat against his back. And he just... he just stays there, and tries to make his stress drain away, even though he can still feel the tension running through his back. It's fucked up how quickly you can go from feeling like things are great, to things being awful.
Eventually, he emerges, and he drags his bags over to the loft, and changes, and then starts putting some stuff out. Sean still feels like he's trespassing, like at any moment, somebody's going to turn up and yell at him to stop and get out. At least he doesn't feel like he's going to get assassinated...
It's when Sean's poking around that he finds the command list, and realizes he can just talk to the apartment which is... very weird. Very sci-fi. All of it is very, very sci-fi... And he's still not sure where he heard the name CyberLife before. Sean looks over the voice commands, and tries talking to the room itself.]
Uh. Hey? Computer? Uh? ... master control? No uh-
[There was a name right? The computer has a name, like phones do. Where is it, where is it-]
Hey Chloe? Can you hear me? ... Chloe, can you tell me about CyberLife-
[He's interrupted when he hears his phone ding with a new message. Sean quickly heads over to see who it's from-
Oh. Connor. Sean feels a weird lurch of emotion run through him, thrilled, and then angry, and then just plain confused. And then... weirdly disappointed. And that's- that's a stupid way to feel. It's a really stupid way to feel about it.
He sits down and texts back. Usually, Sean's texts are loose and full of emojis. It's... hard putting a smiley face behind anything right now.]
Okay good to hear glad youre okay. I think im okay just learning how this stuff works. I found the instructions for talking to the room and fridge. I dont know if i need anything yet still unpacking.
[After an agonizing moment, Sean snaps a picture of the half-unpacked bags. He wouldn't have second-guessed sending anything before. But that was before Connor used stuff told him against him...
He sends it anyway. Not like Sean has any more secrets. They all got poured out and written down and handed off to the police.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
30/10/18 06:32 (UTC)[Sean's not unwilling to go fishing for the kit, but Connor's right, they can't fix it now. They have to wait. He gets the napkins against the wound, doing his best to stanch the blood without pressing down too hard. Jesus. Jesus Christ. What if they're being followed still? God, Jesus, if they were smart enough to put guys in his building, then they might be smart enough to have cars on the road.
Being paranoid feels terrible, but there's nothing Sean can do about it except hold those napkins in place, and soak up the blood coming out of him.]
Jesus. Jesus. I had such a bad feeling walking in there. I knew something was wrong. The Lord might as well have sent an angel down to tell me there was death waiting, and I just- if you hadn't seen it...
[Sean would be dead. Absolutely dead. All because he didn't want to leave his fucking books behind or his clothes or the other stupid little things he thought were important. None of it was worth dying over...]
(no subject)
30/10/18 07:37 (UTC)When they finally get to the open land outside the city, Connor pulls over off the interstate and reclines his seat, breathing heavily. It's not shock, but it's getting there, and he has to push himself to focus on the here and now. It helps, when he catches Sean around the back of the neck and has the chance to look him in the eye.]
Sean. Doll. You know I like listening to you, but you really need to stop and focus, here. There's gauze, alcohol and painkillers in the kit.
(no subject)
30/10/18 13:59 (UTC)No, no, don't worry. I. Ha, I know this shit like the back of my hand. Hold onto this.
[He makes Connor hold onto the napkins and Sean gets out of the passenger side, going into the back to fish the first ait kit out and come back around with it. He settles back in, unzipping it, and getting the alcohol. He sets it on the dashboard with the rest of the kit, and starts unbuttoning Connor's shirt, carefully peeling it and the napkins back to look at the wound.]
You don't know the awful shock I got the first time I walked into a hospital here and found out they charge you for everything. I knew Americans paid more, but I had no idea how much you paid for everything. Jesus. Scared the shit out of me. So I had to get good at doing this. Like, don't get me wrong, I'm no doctor but... hey, I'm not going to charge you an arm and a leg for it, so it washes out right?
[And as he chats to distract Connor, Sean uses the alcohol to clear the wound. He carefully checks to see if the slug's still in one piece, or it's shattered. One piece. Thank god. Though that also makes it tricky, because they'll need to fish that out. But not here. That's asking for an infection to do that without clean tools and hot water and all the rest. So he'll patch it for now, and they'll pull that out later when they get where they're going. Sean cleans the worst of it, and wipes it down, and then gets the disinfectant over the wound, and finally adds plenty of gauze in a square over the wound before taping it down.
Not his best work, but it'll do for now. He checks the bottle for doses, and taps out two pills.]
We'll pull the slug out and stitch when I've got a sink, so we'll need to hit a drugstore when we're there, or before we're there if they don't have those out at Belle Isle. You can have these two now, and two more in four hours.
[Sean holds out the pills for Connor and glances around to see if somewhere among the fast food litter and other rubbish if there's an old soda or bottle of water or something. Doesn't look like it.]
Sorry, you're going to have to dry swallow them.
(no subject)
30/10/18 15:08 (UTC)[He hisses quietly at the fabric peeling away from the wound, jaw clenched as Sean cleans it up. The alcohol stings like a sonofabitch but he'll deal. It's just a temporary fix. All of this is temporary.
He grouses distractedly about his shirt being ruined as Sean pops open the pill bottle, holding his hand out for the tablets then just tossing them into his mouth and bracing before crunching down on them and swallowing hard. It's absolutely disgusting, but he'd live, it'd kick in faster, and it'd be a story to tell later. He pulls his shirt back on straight and takes a few long breaths before popping the car back out of neutral and pulling onto the interstate once more.]
There's a full, privatized medical facility where I used to live. I'll cash in a favor after we get you to your place.
(no subject)
30/10/18 15:21 (UTC)That's good. I can do okay work but... like I said, I'm not a doctor. I just date a lot of assholes who don't have health care, or can't risk going to the hospital. You're- you were kind of the exception.
[He slumps back in his seat. Jesus Christ. Sean's done a lot of stupid fucking things for men, and he's paid the price for it before, but usually that's getting roughed up, or a bruised heart, or having to quickly move in the dead of night to shake an ex who wasn't letting things go. The cost of chasing dick has never been so high as it is right now.]
... so how long is the drive?
Please correct me if I got the context wrong for "you were the exception"
30/10/18 16:04 (UTC)But maybe it's better this way. One less thing to make him worry while he's on the job. One less reason to care.]
It's about an hour now. You'll see the tower first.
You nailed it!
30/10/18 16:11 (UTC)This feels just like the time he walked into Five Guys and three of his goddamn ex's were in there at the same time. Jesus. He's just got the worst fucking luck.
Connor isn't chatting much and Sean usually loves to fill the gaps in silence, but what's he even got to say? Hey so what are your plans, after ruining my life? You working on any cases other than the one that's got you shot and has a hit out on my head? Seeing anybody new? Obviously not, your job is your life, plus it's not Sean's business anymore, if it ever was.
Something does occur to him and he blurts out-]
Who's looking after Musubi while we're out here?
now how to fix it bc connor is bad at this whole having feelings thing when it comes to his mission.
31/10/18 02:53 (UTC)My partner, detective Reed. He's got him for now.
[Another one that he's told Sean about; a chauvinist, a bit of a cock, but his oldest friend from the time he'd first run away from home as a teenager. There's a thought to offer to bring Musubi to see Sean, but he doubts the man would accept it, no matter how he likes the dog. Too awkward, after all. It's just not a good time.]
IT'S TRICKY Connor's trying! Sean will warm back up in time, once he's less afraid
31/10/18 02:59 (UTC)Okay, that's good. Hopefully he'll be eating well, and getting good walks.
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31/10/18 03:16 (UTC)[Connor tended to keep his address a secret when it came to working with the shady types, just so nobody could find out that he didn't have other attachments besides his coworkers and his dog and try to use that against him. He'd been threatened with it a few times since he'd started on the force, and like hell would he ever give it the chance to happen. It was why he tended to trust people a lot more when he found out they liked dogs too. Besides, if someone really loved a dog, they'd be fine going around them, because dogs are good at telling bad people from good more often than not.]
If you ever got the chance, would you get a dog of your own? Seems like a watch dog wouldn't go amiss.
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31/10/18 03:27 (UTC)But then he asks if Sean would get a dog of his own, and he just... he sighs a little. Sean's wanted a pet for a long time. Any pet, honestly. A cat, or a dog, just something he could pet and take care of. He's thought about sneaking in a stray now and then. It's not like he could ruin the places he lived in anymore than they were.
It's just... it's not fair to them. Because some weeks, Sean was stuck debating between what he could deal with: two weeks without his cell phone, or dumpster diving for food until his next paycheck. Doing that to himself was one thing. Doing it to a dog or a cat that depending on him to feed them? That's not fair.]
If things were better, maybe... I like dogs. I like animals.
[Oh... nobody's going to feed the stray cat anymore. He instantly feels guilty. Hopefully she'd be okay. She seemed tough but... winter was always nasty in Detroit. He sinks down a little more in his seat.]
They deserve somebody who can take care of 'em.
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31/10/18 03:46 (UTC)I have no doubt that you'd be good to any animal you took in. But you're right, you need to be able to actually care for them in the first place.
[He smiles faintly, feeling a little less rooted in the awfulness of the moment now that the painkillers have started to take effect and take the edge off the ache in his shoulder. He looks up ahead after they pass one of the unmarked county roads leading out toward the more rural properties, spotting far off the massive structure that looks a little unfocused from here due to its lattice-like construction. Something that's been in news reports as a backdrop when it came to some of the new, secretive biomedical and technical developments underway since its construction. If Sean recognizes it, he'd probably be able to put together a little more detail from what little he actually knows about Connor himself, from the lack of parentage to the lack of actual schooling. This was where he'd come from. It was where he was born.]
Everything will be alright, Sean. I bet I can find your stray cat and make sure she's warm before the snow hits.
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31/10/18 04:17 (UTC)Maybe. She can take care of herself though. She's a tough old girl.
[Sean's not the kind of guy who keeps up with politics or news. So much of it's bad, and so much of it makes him feel sick or small, and it's easier just to keep his eyes averted and his head down. He buries himself in fiction because it's a safe release from the terror of the world around him. But there's a funny thing about fiction, and that's that a lot of it pulls from the news. So even if he's avoiding learning some things, in the end, he ends up with a basic knowledge anyway, just filtered through fiction.
Which means when he looks around and sees the landscape around him, and the massive structure in the distance, he says-]
That looks like the cover of a book I read once.
[He doesn't mean to lapse back into conversation. But he can't help it. Sean's never been good at staying quiet for long, especially not when he's in the same car as someone. Even when he's still feeling hurt, he can't help but want to talk to someone. Anyone. Especially someone he likes- liked. Likes. Oh whatever.]
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31/10/18 04:51 (UTC)[Connor doesn't read much that he ever talks about. Sean is the connoisseur, after all. But he can't help drawing the comparison.]
When I was a kid, I couldn't shake the feeling that the entire world might have just been made up. Like all this was all there was. Just...the thousand people that lived in there with me, and all this empty nothing. Amanda thought it was a stupid idea, but...I don't know. I think maybe I was scared I was right.
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31/10/18 05:06 (UTC)[Sean had read a lot of things, horrible and otherwise, but nothing had gotten him the way 'I Have No Mouth' did, which frankly had scared the shit out of Sean the first time he read it. It was horrible, the idea of being tortured over and over again until you had your entire sense of self stripped from you. Benny had given him nightmare especially, just the idea of having every single pillar of yourself turned against you, until the 'you' that you were was gone, forever.
The second bit is a little confusing at first, until he realizes what Connor's saying, and then Sean nods, because yeah, he gets that a little. Not the same as Connor, but... small towns are all the same.]
That sounds terrifying to feel that way as a kid... The world always seemed more like a story to me when I was a kid. But, I guess I always figured I'd eventually head out there, like the heroes always did the fairy tales. Second-last son, out on the road with a ball of yarn, or a bag of seeds, or some other half-magic thing to lead the way.
[He wants to ask who Amanda was. Was that one of his guardians? Or someone else in the town? Connor doesn't have many good things to say about his history - or much at all, really. The thing Sean knows most is that this place is pretty, and quiet, and lonely.]
... is Amanda still here? Or is she... gone?
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31/10/18 06:28 (UTC)[As they get closer to the tower, it becomes clear that this isn't so much a town as it is a complex, and a sterile one at that, all spread out from the base of the main structure. There don't seem to be any signs of life, just the dull back and forth of automated trucks with no operators. It all blends in with the scenery from further away, save for the tower proper.
A massive, smooth gate lies in front of the entry road, flanked by men in dark uniforms. He rolls down his window and looks out at the one on his side, and his tone grows chilly, clinical, almost robotic.]
ID number 313 248 317, Connor Stern. I'm escorting a witness under protective custody, and requesting medical attention code 1310, nonfatal.
[Definitely not standard police, and definitely another layer of weird to deepen the alarm surrounding Connor's everything.
When they're allowed past, the gate in front of them sinks into the road itself. He rolls his window up and breathes a sigh of relief. They'd be able to put Sean up without incident.]
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31/10/18 06:38 (UTC)Well it's weird. Very weird. Connor said he'd grown up in a remote place. He didn't mention it was a compound. Granted, if Sean had grown up in a compound, would he tell anyone? Jesus. Never. He'd do pretty much anything not to mention it.
But hey, for the first time, Sean finds himself actually wondering if he really will be safe here, instead of certain he'll die. It's one thing for the mob to follow him to a small town. It's another to get into a compound with a gate, and ID numbers, and codes and... everything. Even the way Connor speaks gets weird and strange, and a little scary really.
Sean just sits in his seat with his hands in his lap, watching Connor as he relaxes, and becomes more like himself again...]
Uh. Yeah. Yeah... It's uh... like Fort Knox in here, huh?
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31/10/18 07:09 (UTC)[Connor hadn't been sworn to secrecy when he'd left this place, but he wouldn't talk about it unless he absolutely had to. Who would believe him? More than that, it just doesn't seem important in his day to day. It's easy to be vague about in smalltalk as long as he kept names out of it.
Connor pulls around to a smaller multilevel building, the same chilly exterior as everywhere else in the complex revealing nothing about it but a panel at the ground entrance of the parking structure labeling this a "habitation center". From here it doesn't take long for Connor to get his car parked in a rather empty low level lot, and take Sean to the elevator that's very clean and a cozy sort of warmth that carries further inside.
At the hall the doors upen up to, it looks more habitable, tiled in a warm cream color with smooth white walls, and several doors along the corridor, all with panels identical to the one that Connor stops in front of. He lays his fingertips against it and the door audibly unlocks. Then he gestures Sean forward.]
Here, put your hand on it, and then you'll be the only one that can get in here unless you specify anyone else.
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31/10/18 07:24 (UTC)It feels like a hospital building. But not a regular one. A specialty hospital, where you go when you've got something the regular doctors can't fix. It gives him the creeps. Jesus... and Connor grew up here? In this place?
... no wonder he thought arresting Sean would work out well if this was the kind of environment he was used to. He probably couldn't understand why it'd been so hurtful to Sean to have his trust in Connor abused like that, and turned against him. Even in the places where it gets less hospital-y, it's still got a kind of... like. Sean's not sure of the words exactly, but it all feels too perfect, in the wrongest way. Like everything is the same, and every inch the same, and if anything weren't, then it would have to go...
He steps forward when Connor tells him to, looking at the panel.]
Uh, sure.
[He puts his hand flat on it, so it can get all his fingerprints and palm lines and whatever else it uses. It's got a weird, warm and staticy feeling to it. The promise of nobody getting in except him, or who he wants, is nice but... who'd he even want in here besides him anyway? He doesn't know anyone here. And just by looking around, Sean's not sure they'd want to get to know him either.
Sean steps inside the room and looks around.]
Did you grow up in uh... this place? The... habitation center? Or somewhere else?
[There hadn't been much in the way of houses as far as Sean had seen when they came in, but maybe they were around, just in the back somewhere.]
(no subject)
31/10/18 08:28 (UTC)The apartment looks like a magazine spread, clean and modern, with pristine decorations and comfortable seating, a fully stocked kitchen positively glittering. It's a studio space, and the bed is partitioned off on an upper level up a small set of stairs, while underneath a large desk sits with a computer and ample writing space. A huge picture window rests along the far wall, tinted subtly to cut the glare of sunlight coming in. A bathroom sits open on the adjacent wall, just as clean as the rest with chrome fixtures and smooth marble surfaces.
Connor moves further into the apartment, glancing around, then back to Sean.]
In the main structure.
Sean, I know this is all really, really weird for you. It's only temporary but I get that these things leave a lasting impression. I will tell you anything you want to know, after I've been treated. Whatever will make this easier to bear until it's safe for you to return home.
(no subject)
31/10/18 15:03 (UTC)[The place is probably the nicest place Sean's ever been in where he wasn't someone else's guest. Though, thinking about it, he still is someone else's guest here. It looks like something out of a movie, y'know, where the young hip rich people lounge around while fucking their way into and out of every problem they have. Like a showroom selling him on putting down a deposit to live here for like, a million dollars a year.
It's a little overwhelming. He drops his bags by the door near where Connor put his others, and he just does the slow turn as he looks in it. Connor's still talking though, so he forces himself to pay attention.]
Uh. Okay.
[And as he turns, his eyes light on Sean's makeshift wound treatment. He quickly makes a face. Jesus right, how could he have let himself forget? Connor sure couldn't, not when he had a bullet in him.]
Yeah no, uh, go get that taken care of before it gets any worse. I'll... be here.
[Not like he has anywhere else he can go. Especially not when he's got this ankle bracelet on, and he knows that they sure aren't easy to cut off, or tamper with.]
(no subject)
31/10/18 15:35 (UTC)It's good that Sean seems to like the place; he'd have tried to get him switched to one of the other apartments if he didn't care for this one. Connor's biggest concern in the here and now is Sean's well-being, both physical and mental. Nothing could hurt him here. He wouldn't have to worry about anything. It would be a jarring experience, after everything else he's been through, Connor knows that much.]
Make yourself at home. Eat something. And...here.
[He kneels as he talks, reaching for the tracker anklet Sean had been made to wear when the court order had been handed down. Within moments of fiddling, he has it off, and he hands it over.]
It's still functional, but you can just leave it here. We're not holding you prisoner.
(no subject)
31/10/18 16:16 (UTC)But his moping is promptly interrupted as Connor kneels down and easily takes the anklet off.]
Are you sure, I... won't you get in trouble for taking it off?
(no subject)
1/11/18 00:20 (UTC)[He points it out like a matter of fact, putting the anklet in one of the drawers of the kitchen island where Sean would know where it is.
A chime at the door alerts them to the arrival of another person, dressed in sterile white scrubs when Connor answers the door. There's brief conversation, then Connor turns back around and flashes Sean a strained little smile.]
There's unlimited hot water when you wanna take a shower. I'm gonna go get patched up.
[He doesn't wait for Sean to respond. The sooner he's on his way, the sooner he can get patched up, and the sooner Sean won't have to worry about it anymore. Or about seeing him. He'll be left alone after that to get his bearings, to eat or rest or take a shower, and discover the other interesting thing about the apartment: that everything can be voice-activated if he finds the command list posted on one of the counters.
The next time he hears from Connor, it'll be a simple message:]
Bullet's out, painkillers kicked in. Wasn't as bad as it looked.
I'm going home tomorrow.
Is there anything I can bring you?
(no subject)
1/11/18 01:02 (UTC)[But he's gone before Sean can say anything. And then he's left alone. In this big, empty apartment. With every possession packed in a suitcase.
Well. Alright.
Sean takes Connor's advice on the shower, because a police holding cell isn't exactly a comfortable place to do anything, and showering isn't really an option for short-term holds. He gets out of the jail's clothes and promptly climbs in, turning it up hot. Oh jesus that's nice. His shower at home-
His shower at the apartment never stayed hot for long, if ever. Sean sticks himself under the water and scrubs off sweat and stink from the past few days, before he just leans against the wall and lets it beat against his back. And he just... he just stays there, and tries to make his stress drain away, even though he can still feel the tension running through his back. It's fucked up how quickly you can go from feeling like things are great, to things being awful.
Eventually, he emerges, and he drags his bags over to the loft, and changes, and then starts putting some stuff out. Sean still feels like he's trespassing, like at any moment, somebody's going to turn up and yell at him to stop and get out. At least he doesn't feel like he's going to get assassinated...
It's when Sean's poking around that he finds the command list, and realizes he can just talk to the apartment which is... very weird. Very sci-fi. All of it is very, very sci-fi... And he's still not sure where he heard the name CyberLife before. Sean looks over the voice commands, and tries talking to the room itself.]
Uh. Hey? Computer? Uh? ... master control? No uh-
[There was a name right? The computer has a name, like phones do. Where is it, where is it-]
Hey Chloe? Can you hear me? ... Chloe, can you tell me about CyberLife-
[He's interrupted when he hears his phone ding with a new message. Sean quickly heads over to see who it's from-
Oh. Connor. Sean feels a weird lurch of emotion run through him, thrilled, and then angry, and then just plain confused. And then... weirdly disappointed. And that's- that's a stupid way to feel. It's a really stupid way to feel about it.
He sits down and texts back. Usually, Sean's texts are loose and full of emojis. It's... hard putting a smiley face behind anything right now.]
Okay good to hear glad youre okay.
I think im okay just learning how this stuff works. I found the instructions for talking to the room and fridge.
I dont know if i need anything yet still unpacking.
[After an agonizing moment, Sean snaps a picture of the half-unpacked bags. He wouldn't have second-guessed sending anything before. But that was before Connor used stuff told him against him...
He sends it anyway. Not like Sean has any more secrets. They all got poured out and written down and handed off to the police.]
Kinda messy still.
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